


At the After Party

by Yollie183



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, Michael Fassbender - Fandom
Genre: Benedict Cumberbatch - Freeform, CumberBender, Cumbercollective - Freeform, Dancing, FassBatch, Gen, M/M, Michael Fassbender - Freeform, Sherlock - Freeform, Silly, blurred lines, golden globes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 21:21:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yollie183/pseuds/Yollie183
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a silly CumberBender fic inspired by the photo taken at the Golden Globes 2014 after party of Benedict and Michael dancing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the After Party

**Author's Note:**

> Comments (even criticism) is much appreciated.  
> I dithered between CumberBender and Fassbatch...

The Golden Globes were a rather dull and pompous affair in Benedict’s opinion. The 12 Years a Slave after-party, on the other hand, was a lot more exciting.  
Benedict refused to acknowledge that this was only because of Michael.  
Instead he playfully flirted with every pretty girl he came across.   
That changed when “Blurred Lines” started playing and he found himself, drink in hand, dancing right next to Michael, whose blue eyes were even more intoxicating than six shots of vodka.  
They laughed together when the song was over.   
“Hey,” Michael had to raise his voice to be heard over the din of the crowded ball room, “have you heard any fan responses yet?”  
At Benedict’s uncomprehending stare, Michael rolled his eyes. “Sherlock! The new episode is tonight isn’t it?”  
“Oh yeah!” Benedict suddenly remembered and pulled out his phone, logging into the secret twitter account that he kept for situations like these: @theno1cumberbitch. It was a lengthy handle but it got the job done.  
Michael gave a little snort of laughter. “Way to fool the fans, Ben.”  
Benedict tried not to respond to Michael’s warm breath tickling his cheek.  
They browsed tweets for a while, laughing at the shock of some of the fans after the almost kiss between Sherlock and Moriarty.  
Then Michael pulled Benedict’s phone from his hand and typed something   
into Google.   
“Have you seen some of the fan fiction they’re writing about you?” He asked.  
“Some yeah,” Benedict answered, reading the tiny words on the screen.  
Michael pulled up a rather risqué story featuring Sherlock and John, and then to Benedict’s shock started reading it out loud, but only so that he and Benedict could hear.  
The graphic descriptions seemed to take on a whole new air in Michael’s Irish accent, and Benedict felt increasingly less amused and more aroused with each word.  
So much so that he didn’t recognize the same thing happening to Michael, given away only by the change in tone of his voice and the slight dilation of his pupils.  
Michael, on the other hand, realized exactly what the story was doing to Benedict, and he savoured the slight hitches of breath and the warm flush colouring chiselled cheekbones.  
When Michael suddenly stopped reading he looked up, only to find himself trapped in an intense blue gaze.   
Benedict felt his pulse start to race, his breathing speeding up.   
Then, without either of them making the conscious decision, they were kissing.  
Benedict’s soft lips yielded beneath Michael’s firmer mouth, submitting to the other man’s command.  
When they finally broke apart, Michael breathlessly said; “My room is closer.”  
Benedict only nodded and allowed the other man to take his hand and lead him upstairs.


End file.
